


Tower Over Me

by Kanthia



Series: Your Arms Like Towers [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Body Worship, Frottage, M/M, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1511768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanthia/pseuds/Kanthia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s expensive and time-consuming keeping his body in peak physical condition, but there’s really no point in saving money. The Military Police and Garrison are content to let death come slow, from jaundice or an improperly maintained rifle. The entire Survey Corps lives balancing pleasure against death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tower Over Me

**Author's Note:**

> A porny follow-up to [A Vigil of a Different Kind](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1487329). Spoilers for the final part of A Choice With No Regrets.

Erwin Smith is a man of simple tastes, but the same could be said about anyone in the Survey Corps. His position has afforded him a monthly stipend, which he ruthlessly budgets and spends to the last copper coin, on simple pleasures: scotch for bad days, the occasional courtesan when he could afford the time, under-the-table deals with savvy politicians, food. Mostly food. Erwin is fine to let most of his stipend be eaten up (quite literally) by lean proteins and milk and fresh greens, the kinds of foods that wouldn’t keep and couldn’t be served in the mess hall. He’s more concerned with nutrition than taste, but there’s something about a roast chicken with rosemary and pomegranate that puts him in a good mood for days.

It’s expensive and time-consuming keeping his body in peak physical condition, but there’s really no point in saving money. The Military Police and Garrison are content to let death come slow, from jaundice or an improperly maintained rifle. The entire Survey Corps lives balancing pleasure against death. 

But for every soldier who could benefit from an extra three boiled eggs at dinner there is some pot-bellied nobleman who insists that the money could be better spent on mirrors and elaborate wall-hangings. That’s what happens to people who can eat baked goods whenever they want: they start to cling to things that last longer than one bowel movement, in hopes of making meaning out of their desire. Erwin has been chewed out on more than one occasion by Commander Shadis for daring to suggest that what the Legion really needs comes down to better food and working barrier contraceptives, particularly male condoms. It may be true, Shadis had said after one particularly tense meeting, but that didn’t mean the pigs in Mitras needed to hear it.

Erwin is particularly good at reading people, knows that the standard period of mourning for new recruits coming back from their first expedition is around three weeks, knows that the end of mourning is usually signalled by a sudden and particularly vicious return of the appetite, both for food and sex. That’s why, he argues, such a need exists. It might be a little frank, but it’s the truth, and against the ever-present reality of a short and messy death there is no need for pleasantries.

Erwin had been keeping an eye on Levi ever since the expedition returned, had watched him push food around on his plate and slowly starve to death, but it was not until he’d collapsed in the middle of a training exercise that the higher-ups had taken note of Levi’s declining health. Shadis had placed the responsibility of ensuring Levi’s recuperation on Erwin’s shoulders; Erwin had accepted the task, had expected it to land on him all along.

So when all’s said and done he’s happy, but not particularly unsurprised, when Levi gets hard in his office in the middle of eating a bowl of his stew, five weeks after returning from his first expedition, six days after being placed on double rations.

Levi, of course, doesn’t respond well to joking, marches out of the office fully hard. Erwin finds him hours later working off stress in the courtyard, and the time comes (as it often does) to take a chance. He’d taken so many chances on Levi already, on an urchin self-trained on stolen gear, that one more couldn’t hurt. That’s how trust is built: each taking chances on the other.

\----------

So, the little morning jogs.

Levi sets a punishing pace for someone so small. Erwin had thought it was spite but learns, over time, that it’s Levi’s particular brand of pride: he’d lived so long looking out for Isabel and Farlan, that when he’d watched them die he’d lost his sense of self-efficacy. If as soldiers they have anything it is the ability to believe in their own strength. Levi’s too smart and too mired in the trauma of the loss of life to listen to someone else’s words.

Over the course of weeks he watches the colour come back to Levi’s cheeks, the bite come back to his words, his neck get thicker. Levi grinds out pull-ups and looks spectacularly alive, reminds the whole corps why they brought him in in the first place. A rumour about hope settles over their shoulders like mist. Erwin notices changes in himself, too. His waist is smaller ( _all that extra cardio_ ), his shoulders broader, and when the order for new uniforms is passed around and Levi needs a fitting for a new jacket, Erwin considers adding his own name to the list.

(He doesn’t, uses a bit of his beef budget to purchase a new button-up shirt, instead. Leaves the top button undone. Considers looking into personal tailoring.)

The nurse confirms that Levi’s put on ten kilograms in six weeks, and Erwin waits patiently in his office to be confronted about it. He gets Shadis instead, pre-briefing a meeting with some benefactors in Sina. Finally Shadis leaves, and Levi lets himself in.

He’s angry; Erwin lets him have his anger. Levi accuses him of having a plan, all along. Erwin reminds him that everyone has their own way of mourning. He takes a chance, embraces Levi until his tears run dry, and then they make tea.

\----------

The following day, Levi meets Erwin as usual for their morning run, as do half the corps, fully geared up and stretching out their morning stiffness. Erwin presents the route, a five kilometer loop that will take them through town.

The sun rises out of the mist as they run, and it promises to be a blisteringly hot day. Everyone’s sweating. Mike jogs up next to Erwin, softly explains that he is trying to get out of the downwind, and Levi glares out from under sticky-wet hair. They finish the loop, pack into the courtyard as Erwin and Mike run them through a circuit of full-body conditioning. A few civilian women and men have followed them out of town, watch from the fence of the courtyard with appreciation. Erwin lets it happen, figuring that a good word will eventually filter up to Mitras, but when one particularly brave woman shouts his name as he’s doing squat-thrusts he catches Levi’s glare darken, and Erwin’s smile gets a little wider. Erwin’s not stupid. He knows what’s up, and he’s more than happy to oblige.

Breakfast in the mess hall is scrambled eggs with a tomato salsa, boar bacon, and toasted bread with goat’s milk butter. Erwin usually has breakfast on his own while going over notes for the day, had thought about dipping the bread in a combination of raw egg and butter and frying it in oil, but lately he’s been seeing the value of eating with the other soldiers. He grabs a tray, takes a seat with Mike, and is not surprised when Levi bangs his tray down next to him.

Levi eats quickly and neatly, says little. Erwin strikes up a conversation with Mike about making the morning training necessary. Mike feels that it shouldn’t be, that soldiers should be given a choice. Erwin, who had entered the conversation on the opposite side, begins to feel inclined to agree: tough experiences shared through mutual choice create solidarity. Levi finishes before Erwin, but waits for his superior to finish; once Erwin’s done he stands up, wipes his mouth, excuses himself.

Then it’s meetings, training, lunch, training, meetings, paperwork, weigh-in, dinner. The day is hot and sticky, recruits tugging at their collars and pulling at the straps of their gear. He catches Levi’s gaze on several occasions: hot, dark, knowing. After dinner he escapes into the courtyard to catch some air and Levi follows him.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Levi growls, as soon as they have some semblance of privacy behind a tree. “Ninety-two kilograms, are you shitting me?”

“Everyone’s body is different,” Erwin says, unbuttoning the second-to-top button of his shirt. Levi steps over, grabs his chin and pulls him down, until their faces are inches apart.

“You fucking ox.”

“I’d like to know how you got access to personal information. Or have you made an educated guess based on careful observation?”

Levi’s eyes darken, his breath hot on Erwin’s lips, and that’s it. All the pain and tension, the clothed erections, the bowls of stew, the push-ups under the hot sun, the devastation and loss, all the life burning in their blood, it all comes out as a searing hot kiss, mouth on mouth, Levi shoving Erwin up against the tree with such force it shakes the upper branches. Levi thrusts a knee between Erwin’s legs and grinds hard, as Erwin unbuckles the chest-strap on his gear.

“Shit,” Levi breathes, as he falters, pulling back. “Holy shit. Fuck. Stop.”

Erwin’s hands freeze. Levi’s eyes are screwed shut, his forehead furrowed as he starts to unbuckle his own gear, with his own hands. _Of course_ , Erwin thinks, suddenly reminded of the way they’d been taught to treat their gear as new recruits: your gear is your life, the dermal abrasions, like veins.

“You’ve been sleeping in it, haven’t you.”

There is no tremble in Levi’s hands, nor any tremor in his voice, and Erwin knows that learning to tell when Levi’s scared will be a long and difficult and necessary endeavour. “Shit gets stolen while you’re sleeping. We’d rotate watch. Now that they’re gone, all I have is myself.”

Erwin clenches his jaw to stop _you have the corps_ from coming out, lets Levi finish unbuckling his chest strap, instead. He slides off his jacket, grunting as he tugs it over his arms, then removes his cravat, slides off the shoulder straps, letting his gear hang off his back. His jacket and cravat he sets down neatly beside him, and only then does he let Erwin unbutton his shirt.

Erwin’s not so bold or egocentric as to take a soldier’s improvement as his own personal achievement, nor is he so vain that he considers the human body the highest kind of art, but the sublime form of Levi’s body steals his breath, gives him pause. Levi’s eyes flutter open in surprise and he lets out a long, shuddering breath as Erwin places a hand on his chest, feels that strong heart beating, then runs it down his side, reverently. A man expecting to die in a gutter, growth stunted by years of malnutrition, now with a body worthy of being humanity’s hope.

“Look at you,” Erwin murmurs, grasping Levi around the waist, running a thumb along the firm muscles of his abdomen, the dark red lines left by his gear. His waist is so small that Erwin’s hand is almost comically large in comparison, but there’s power in there, a rare kind of strength, and not an ounce of fat anywhere. A wolf in a man’s body. If Erwin could strip Levi entirely and spend hours admiring his form, he would, but Levi is a man and not a work of art. Levi chokes out a sound as Erwin slides the hand under his waist strap and grabs his ass.

“Just fucking get on with it,” Levi murmurs, his voice strained. “Is everyone in the Legion this slow?”

Erwin takes his hand out and grabs Levi’s two wrists, guides them up to his own chest-strap. “Show me, then,” he says. “Show me what you can do.”

Erwin can tell he’s fucked and been fucked before, doesn’t ask or spend too much time wondering about how many times he’d traded sex for food, but Levi pushes Erwin up against the tree and slides down Erwin’s body and pushes up Erwin’s leather apron, grits his teeth and bemoans the size of his dick in a way that sends a white rush of pleasure straight to his balls, gives him a blow job worthy of a pulp novel. Then straps and clothes are frantically thrown off, and once fully nude but for boots and pants pushed down to their knees, Erwin grabs Levi around the waist and throws him up against the tree, presses his weight into him. Levi’s fully hard, wraps his legs around Erwin. Erwin’s dripping precum against their bellies, and when Levi reaches down Erwin grabs him with his free hand to stop him, because he knows that if Levi so much as touches him he’ll come, immediately.

“Give me a moment,” Erwin says, chest heaving. Levi cocks an eyebrow, but maneuvers his hand so he’s only jerking himself off, eyes locked on Erwin.

“You fucking beast,” Levi groans, hand picking up speed. “Throwing around -- your weight -- like -- fuck --”

Erwin grinds up against him, in a shallow parody of what he’d do with some lube and a bit more time, and after a few thrusts the tension is enough: he loses control, comes in shuddering spurts. Levi comes not long after and Erwin manages to keep it together enough to watch Levi’s face loosen, his mouth drop open, and that moment of bliss is the most brilliant thing he’s ever seen.

There’s nothing but heavy breathing, as Erwin gingerly sets Levi down and kisses Levi on the forehead, the shell of his ear, the side of his mouth, his red, red lips. Eventually they disentangle, and Levi wipes at the cooling mess on his abdomen with disgust.

“If there’s no more hot water in the bathhouse, I’ll kill you,” he says, as he gets redressed.

“You’re still welcome to the officers’ washroom -- working lock, running tap, remember? I’ll make tea.”

Levi takes him up on the offer.

\----------

There’s a certain quality of softness in the way Levi carries himself, afterwards, when they reconvene in Erwin’s office. There hadn’t been any hot water in the bathhouse, but a cold wash followed by hot tea suits Erwin just fine. He does paperwork as Levi inspects and cleans the room.

Erwin wants to say, _is it like this, all the time, for you_? At first there had been soldiers put off by Levi’s near-obsessiveness with cleanliness, an obsession that had only gotten more pronounced after the expedition returned. But to Erwin there was a certain logic to it, a kind of naked repulsion to the way humanity couldn’t even keep their little cage clean.

For a man who speaks with no filter, there is a lot that Levi keeps to himself, and Erwin likes that about him. There’s a lot about Levi that he likes, he realizes, and that’s a very dangerous thought, because one day they’ll both be worm food, Levi’s wings the marker of a criminal condemned to die one way or another. Erwin pushes the thought aside. No use ruminating when the man before him is going to shake the very foundations of the world.

Erwin clears his throat; Levi peers up. “If you put in a request at the beginning of the week, you can receive the equivalent of any number of meals in raw rations. I’d like to make you dinner again, if you’d let me.”

Levi chuckles. “Farlan used to worry that the corps would fatten us up into cannon fodder, you know. Isabel freaked out. Pinched at her waist every morning, thought that if she got fat you’d ship us off to the Garrison and they’d fire us out of the cannons.” He laughs, darkly, more to himself than Erwin. “I told them that I didn’t want anyone to look out for except the two of them, and the next day I rode off to find you and let them die.”

“Nobody’s going to tell you what to think about them,” Erwin says, signing off on a document. The corps is moving an injured soldier out of her gear and into work as a grief counselor. “You know as well as the rest of us that living is harder than dying.”

Levi’s silent, at that. “I suppose so,” he says, finally. “Whatever. Your cooking’s not complete shit.”

The sun sets, and a cool breeze rustles through the open window. The moon rises. Levi excuses himself, to the barracks, to bed. Erwin signs off on one last paper and stands up, stretches, thinks about the run they’ll do in the morning, thinks about what Levi will be like taking it at his own pace. The only way to move is forward, and that suits him perfectly fine.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [tumblr](http://kanthia.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
